Sounds of a Heartbroken Man
by Rebii
Summary: Short ficlet about what might have happened after the Reichenbach Fall. Sherlock stays with Molly for a while.


One week after the fall Molly returns to the flat later than usual, having been kept in at work with a rather unfortunate looking corpse. She stepped into the kitchen to see Sherlock staring into space, his hands on his chin. He looked as if his mind was far, far away, so Molly let him be and went about making tea for the both of them. As the water boiled, the whistle of the kettle startled Sherlock out of his stupor. He blinked and looked up at Molly, who was searching for tea bags.

"How long have you been home?" He asked. Molly jumped; she had almost forgotten he was there.

"Oh, only about twenty minutes," she replied quietly. Sherlock looked her up and down, and Molly once again had the horrible feeling that he was reading her mind.

"You have news," he surmised quickly. Molly's eyes widened and she shook her head. The man across from her was not fooled.

"Come now Molly, your stance is different than usual and you are facing away from me, as if you have something to hide. You've been biting your nails and fiddling with your hair, so clearly you're nervous. Honestly Molly, best to get it over with." Sherlock said with a small glint in his eyes that had been absent over the past week, and Molly could see that he momentarily forgot his woes as he deduced these things about her. She bit her lip and took a small breath in.

"I saw John today."

Her words were met with silence; Sherlock swallowed quickly and looked toward the window. When he finally spoke his voice was flat and devoid of any emotion.

"How… How is he?"

Molly sighed. She wished she had good news for him, she really did. But Sherlock would know in an instant if she was lying to him. Sherlock watched her carefully, looking more interested in what she had to say than ever before.

"Sherlock…" she began hesitantly, "… he looked like hell. He looked so, so tired. I don't think he's slept much this week. He came in with Mike Stamford; I guess he's trying to keep himself busy. Mike was joking around with him but I don't think I saw John smile once. I can't imagine how hard this has all been for him."

Sherlock's jaw clenched and he nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Molly."

"You have to tell him, Sherlock."

He glanced up at her for a moment before his eyes darted back to the window, his face blank.

"You know I can't do that," he murmured.

"But why not? He's a mess without you!"

"_And you think I'm not?_" Sherlock's voice was suddenly much louder than Molly was accustomed to; she took a step back towards the kitchen counter.

Sherlock gently rubbed his temples with his fingers, his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, that was unnecessary," he finally managed. Molly smiled sheepishly.

"It's fine." She went back to making them both tea when she heard the floorboards creak as Sherlock got up from his chair. She turned to see him moving towards the spare bedroom, he turned slowly to look at her. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light, but Molly could swear she saw tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat and motioned towards his bedroom.

"I think I'll skip the tea, but thank you. Goodnight, Molly." He turned and disappeared into the hallway, before closing his door with a small click.

If Molly noticed Sherlock's bloodshot eyes the next morning, she decided against saying anything.

* * *

><p>Sherlock didn't stay with Molly for long. Mycroft had finally sorted out a new identity for him, as well as a place to live in a country that Molly was not allowed to know about. She supposed that she may never see him again once he had left, though she hoped she was wrong. Living with Sherlock was far less difficult than she anticipated. Though of course, Sherlock hadn't been himself after the fall. Not really. He spoke far less often than Molly was accustomed to, which was probably because she wasn't the person he really wanted to be speaking to. She noticed the same thing with John, whenever she saw him. When Sherlock left for his new life he was grateful for everything Molly had done, but at the same time it was clear that he wished for none of it to have been necessary at all. This was now his sad reality, that he was presumed dead and could never see his best friend again. Molly saw the sadness in Sherlock's eyes, try as he might to hide it. She only hoped that one day he could find a way to reunite with John and make everything go back to the way it used to be. Because those nights she spent awake and listening to the sounds of a heartbroken man in the next room were almost too much for her to bear.<p> 


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